The Malfoy Secret
by Daniele-Marx
Summary: Xover w BtVS Draco gets a visit from a long, lost brother, who isn't what he seems... I do not own any characters, just the plotline.
1. A Meeting of Brothers

Malfoy Family:  
  
Lucius  
  
Narcissa  
  
(William) Spike: The Rogue Brother  
  
Draco  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters,   
nor do I own William the Bloody a.k.a. Spike from Buffy the Vampire   
Slayer or any of those characters. This story plot, though radical   
it seems, is mine and mine alone, except my mom thought of Spike's   
part in this, which inspired the entire story. By the way, I made   
it so Spike was still a vampire, but only created recently. He was   
banned from the family long ago when he refused to join Voldemort   
and went his own way (called him a Poof).  
  
~~~~  
  
Draco walked through Hogsmeade alone, heading towards the   
Hog's Head after leaving his fellow Slytherins. He remembered   
recieving an owl during breakfast from someone he knew, and it was   
because of this knowledge of that person that he didn't speak to   
others of him or even think twice as he hid the note from   
everyone's sight. The twit, Pansy Parkinson, had drilled him for   
the answers he hid, but he had merely brushed her off and held his   
fort down. No one knew of this secret, not even Crabbe or Goyle,   
but it did exist. He rounded a corner, his robes flapping behind   
him as he sternly headed toward the entrance of the Hog's Head.   
Entering the pub, he slowed down to a saunter, making sure no one   
suspected him of anything suspicious, but in his own opinion, this   
place was holding its' own reputation.  
  
Searching the room for the familiar face, he glared into   
the darker parts of the pub, taking care to notice the details of   
every little thing. He spotted what he was looking for, and walked   
towards the northeast corner of the room, where a figure sat, his   
stomach churning from sudden anxiety. The man was adorned in black   
garb, but not wizard garb; he wore black jeans, a black shirt,   
black shoes, and his black leather topcoat was laying beside him,   
Draco imagined. One thing that stood out, though, was the man's   
blond, short, slicked back, almost silverish hair. Draco sauntered   
up to him carefully, watching as he lit up what looked like a   
muggle fag (cigarette) with not a wand, but with what looked like a   
metal flame generator. The man looked up to see him, and smirked,   
taking the fag out of his mouth in a smooth motion and   
letting the smoke leave his lungs. "Glad you could make it."   
Draco's stomach turned over, and he sat down hastily.  
  
"No problem. How are you doing?"  
  
"Not bad. Buy you a butterbeer?" Draco suddenly felt the   
warnings rush back to him, and he let a sneer cross his face for a   
second.  
  
"If you want." The man looked at him, and took a drag from his   
fag, signalling for a barwitch. She looked over, and saw the   
boy, getting the butterbeer ready.  
  
"Don't give me that attitude. I knew you'd turn out like him if   
you stayed around."  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Listen Draco, I came here to see you, not that bloody poof you   
call a father. Relax and have a drink." The barwitch came over to   
the table they sat at, and placed the mug in front of Draco.  
  
"Anything else, sir?"  
  
"No, love, we'll be fine." The barwitch nodded and left. Draco   
lifted the mug and took a drink from it.  
  
"You know he's your father, too, William."  
  
"Look, I wanted to ask you how everything went, what everyone   
was up to, you know, the usual, but if you want to talk about   
family affairs, fine. Let's talk. I haven't been in the Malfoy clan   
for about thirteen years now, and with all the things going on   
around here I still stand by my decision."  
  
"Thirteen years? Why don't you look older?" William took another   
drag from his fag, and stared at Draco.  
  
"About ten years ago I was bitten by a vampire, and was turned,   
so now I won't age."  
  
"Father told me you were sent away because of an insult to the   
Dark Lord..."  
  
"Of all the times we've talked, not once did you let him stay   
out of the conversation. I didn't want to be a Deatheater. I love   
chaos, but I don't follow nobody but myself. I spat on the bloody   
poof's breeches and walked away. Almost got me killed, but I   
managed. I imagine you'll be one too, one of these days. Wanted to   
tell you that there were other interesting things out there besides   
revenge, like smoking and partying out in the muggle world but   
Lucius wouldn't hear of it. Life out in the muggle world is less   
complicated, that is to say I can get whatever I want and want   
whatever I got."  
  
"Why would you not want to be a follower of the Dark Lord?" said   
Draco, who was calming down with every sip of butterbeer he took.  
  
"I don't play well with others, is that good enough for you? Why   
would I want to all that when I could be perfectly happy without   
the high expectations. I didn't feel good until I got out of that   
hellhole you call home." William looked at his brother from his   
laid back position, taking the freedom in. "At least in the muggle   
world all vampires have to worry about is getting staked by a   
Slayer. The rest of the world is simple because no one wants to   
admit that there are unnatural forces out there. Nighttime is a   
bloody heaven because everyone goes out," Draco's eyes seemed to   
lose that feeling of captivity. "and everyone walking outside   
during the night line up for the taking, like Happy Meals with   
legs."  
  
"What's a Happy Meal?"  
  
"Muggle fast food franchise from the US. You'd have to see it to   
believe it."  
  
"Muggles have it good?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why would they? They are inferior."  
  
"Yes, but they are oblivious to the complicated things in life,   
like magic. They believe what they see, and see what they want, and   
they don't see magic, well, not all of them. You see, muggles are   
inferior, but in their world, you're just like them, only You are   
the weirdo." Draco's face contorted as if he was disgusted by the   
thought. "It's actually much better than you think."  
  
"But you are of neither world."  
  
"What do I care? Just because I live the life I want doesn't   
mean I can't get what I want. Draco, you've got to start singing to   
another tune otherwise you'll end up just like Lucius, and you know   
how he can be."  
  
"Why are you here, William."  
  
"I owled you out of the blue so I could warn you."  
  
"Against what."  
  
"Lucius. Let me put it in terms you would know: the poof who   
calls himself the Dark Lord will play a game of Exploding Snap, and   
Deatheaters are the cards. I would start running away before they   
pull you into the deck."  
  
"You are lying. My father is His right hand man, and I have no   
problem with letting someone else mess with my life so long as I   
get Potter." William chuckled and snuffed his fag. He motioned for   
Draco to come closer to him, who did as told.  
  
"Do you really think Voldemort will let you take care of the   
Potter kid? Afterall, he's the one who has been plotting against   
the boy for years upon years. You have known him for three, and the   
only reason you hate him is because he's got the silver lining you   
never had. You had better get your priorities straight and think   
about your future and where it's taking you before someone chooses   
your path for you."  
  
"I have plenty of control over my life."  
  
"Oh really. You think you know what it's all about, eh?" Draco   
nodded, the butterbeer laid aside for the meantime. "You know only   
what Lucius knows, and he will be the death of you. Kissing the hem   
of that poof's robes everytime he calls for you because of some   
bloody tattoo that burns until you want to scream? Is that your   
choice or not. As soon as you get the mark, you are not you   
anymore. You are His. There's a saying in the muggle world about   
that: 'When I say 'Jump' you say 'How high?''" This made Draco   
think. He looked at his butterbeer and didn't say anything for a   
while. William took a fag from a package and lit it up, taking a   
large drag from it. Draco seemed interested in it.  
  
"What does it do?" William smirked, and handed it over to him.  
  
"Don't inhale right away." Draco sniffed the smoke coming from   
it before putting his lips on the end and taking what looked like   
an uneasy drag. His eyes slammed shut and smoke left his mouth in a   
coughing fit before his eyes began to water from the burn. He   
handed the fag back to William, who smirked rather evilly before   
bringing it to his lips.  
  
"What's in that?"  
  
"Something called nicotine and a bunch of other muggle   
inventions made to kill from the inside out. It's strangely   
addictive, and it kills your lungs, but if you're going to die   
anyway, why not?"  
  
"But vampires can't breathe."  
  
"Who cares? Breathing is a hard habit to break, especially if   
you don't have to. It's a carefree life, Draco. The muggle world   
isn't too hard on you if you want to do something on your own.   
Here, though," William shook his head in exasperation. "it's so   
tense that if a child had dropped a mug, everyone would want to   
know who dropped it, when, where, and why it was dropped."  
  
"So you left because you didn't want the responsibility of being   
a Deatheater."  
  
"You'll understand maybe one day. Until then, though, don't rush   
to become your father." William noticed a sneer growing back onto   
Draco's face. "Listen, I'm not asking you to run away from home and   
change your name. I'm telling you to do your homework before   
jumping into situations you will never be able to get out of.   
Otherwise you'll be the hem-kissing lapdog of the poof who was   
defeated by a babe." Draco seemed to see something interesting in   
the way his brother spoke.  
  
"Tell me more about the muggle world..."  
  
~~~~ 


	2. Draco's Secret

Draco's Secret  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Harry Potter or BtVS, so please don't press charges. Thank you.  
~.Marx.~  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco walked through the Hogwarts library, heading towards the general education section. Several students who were studying looked up from their reading and watched as the silent Slytherin headed straight for the muggle studies section, and then looked back down as if he had struck them with a curse, in which he clearly did not. Draco's face was blank and serious as he passed them without so much as a sneer or glare; it seemed he had been researching for an answer no book had, but not one student had the guts to ask him what was bugging him. This was the third time this week he had entered the library with something worth doing; he had been, each time, staying until his next class was about to start. He never checked out anything because it arose suspicion and made proof. It hadn't taken long for anyone to notice the quiet and brooding Slytherin lurking throughout the shelves for certain reading materials, picking up books such as 'The Way of The Muggle' and 'Muggle Life: Book I'. Draco seemed to be searching for something important, otherwise he wouldn't be showing such interest at all; it was unlike him to be concerned with anything so mundane.  
  
Draco walked through the aisle on muggle studies and looked at the books he had already looked through. 'Muggles Through the Ages', 'A Life Without Magic', and, his least favorite, 'Muggles: A History'. There were other books like 'The Way of The Muggle' and 'Muggle Life: Book I' but none came close to what he wanted. The one that came somewhat close to what he desired to know was 'A Life Without Magic', but even that book didn't speak with details of any sort. He was getting nowhere fast, and he wanted an answer right now. He recalled an old wizard saying something like, "You can't learn everything at once." He hated that quote, but remembered it well. A book in front of him took him by surprise, and he let hope in his cause slip, grabbing the book and taking it down from the packed shelf, placing it under his arm as he walked over to his usual sitting perch, which was a very secluded niche on the South wall that had very good lighting; he took a seat against the wall of the large cranny and opened the book, beginning to read intently.  
  
Many noticed that he, Draco Malfoy, didn't seem his usual snide self. Anyone who was right in their mind could have seen that, so gossip was at an all time high. Of course suspicion arose about what his intentions were, or why he chose to hang out at the library in all of his spare time. Pansy Parkinson had stopped trying to ask what was on his mind when he had refused to spare her a single glance in acknowledgement, which steamed her greatly. She merely 'hrmphed' and stormed out of the general area; his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, had left him alone at his particular request, and they did as he told naturally. What scared everyone was his behavior in the hallways of Hogwarts. Everyone had stopped in the hall as they witnessed him walk past the one, Harry Potter, without so much as a glare or snide comment at the wonder-boy's expense. That was where the line was drawn. That was when everyone started taking Draco Malfoy's odd behavior seriously.  
  
As Draco skimmed through the book he cradled in his arms, he noticed a girl walking past him who was searching for something, or maybe someone. She wore the traditional robe that was fastened to the top but was loosened at the top of the uniform; her light brown hair waving behind her and she walked past the niche he was sitting in. He spared her a longer sideways glance before she appeared in front of him, a scrutinizing stare on her features. His eyes went from blank to annoyed blank, which was why many didn't feel like approaching him; it seemed that everyone was bound to have that affect on him now. She was no different. Draco sighed in irritation as his thoughts drifted to other matters than he wished, and closed the book with his finger holding his place. The one who stood before him was none other than Hermione Granger.  
  
Hermione stood there in front of him with her hands on either side of the bookshelves, blocking any means of his escape had he been looking for one. No, he thought. Where would I run to. She stood straight up with her right knee outwards and her left lazily to her left. Her form was threatening, and with that he stood up, staring at her as if proving that he had not lost all of his pride. They exchanged stares as if it were a battle of acceptance; she would be allowed to stay if--and only if--she stared him down. Maybe she wouldn't wait for permission; she was a Gryffindor for a reason. Draco stood tall against her, literally. He was about seven inches taller than her, and it made the scales tip in his favor. But she was confident that he wouldn't scare her off. "What is wrong with you, Malfoy." Alas, they didn't have to wait long. He debated speaking for the first time in several days, but decided to make her choose her questions wisely in case he considered answering. He stayed standing just in case she did come up with something; he knew if he sat down he would be submitting to her a message of defeat. He didn't dare do anything less than breathe. She seemed to figure his silent gestures with perspective, and appeared to search for a phrase, a quote, a mental note she had seen in a book she read once. She seemed to get his meaning, which was the important part.  
  
Did this mean he, Draco Malfoy, would submit valuable information as soon as someone figured out the correct way to approach him? They would have to be pretty wise to find the right wording because he was only giving Her one good chance to find the right question. If she failed to deliver he would merely leave and not mention anything of it. It was a battle of values and wits, involving a half-breed witch with his business. If she told anyone--should he tell her in the first place, mind you--he would not be the only one in the hot seat. Who knows what his father would do to her and her family. All he wanted was answers because of some real appealing ideas his brother planted into his brain. Damn you, William, Draco thought. I wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't sent me that owl. Draco was beginning to lose his patience. He sent her a look that said, 'Are you going to stand there all day or do you have something to say to me?' Sure enough, Hermione seemed to come to a solid conclusion regarding his challenge. She stole a look to see what he was reading, and her eyebrows raised in interest; she looked at him as she had when she had first approached him.  
  
"You've been acting weird because of a bunch of books on muggles, Malfoy. What brought this whole ordeal on?" He didn't seem to scare her off just by standing there afterall, because Hermione was standing tall against his stare like the Gryffindor she was. Draco was somewhat impressed at her reaction but didn't take it into his hands to point it out to her; he wouldn't bring it to her attention even if she threatened him with a curse. She waited patiently for his answer, but was rewarded with silence. "I will start making assumptions, then." She waited for him to speak up, but he didn't even humor her. "Tell me you aren't turning over a new leaf."  
  
"Why should I tell you anything in the first place?"  
  
"Because you've been brooding since you received that owl and disappeared for three hours this weekend and came back different. I have been the only one who could get you to say more than four words since then. You've got everything on the line if you keep this up. Tell me you haven't gone suicidal."  
  
"I haven't gone suicidal. Happy?"  
  
"It doesn't reassure my suspicions."  
  
"And you believe I, Draco Malfoy, am turning over a new leaf? What a fallacy."  
  
"What else is there? Tell me what's going on." Draco didn't answer her. Why should he tell her anything at all? She wouldn't understand. He approached her to leave the small study area and she stood in his way. Annoyance crept along his face and disappeared just as fast, and he took his finger out of the book, making sure she saw it before he tossed the book high into the air; she turned her attention to the large volume and grabbed it before it reached the floor. Draco slipped by her and walked away from her silently and acting as if nothing had every happened, though he knew better. When Gryffindors begin fearing for his well-being he should be upset about something. He dismissed the thought until he could find somewhere more secure, but now that task has become somewhat tougher. He could ignore a Slytherin because he was above them all in the hierarchy of meanness, but Gryffindors were another subject altogether. Not that he was giving them praise or wanted to give them praise.  
  
Draco stopped when he exited the library, thinking as two Hufflepuffs walked past him. They stared at him as if he had grown a second head, in which he did not. He, Draco Malfoy, had been confronted by Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor who lived strictly in a muggle world up until a few years ago. She used to be a muggle, not a mudblood. It gave him a thought, not a pleasant one, but a thought nonetheless. Granger is good at all sorts of spells and enchantments, so why not...Draco smothered the thought with a proverbial pillow and stamped the remains of the idea. Not in this lifetime or anywhere beyond that, so get over it and move on. But still, he was curious...Draco found the feeling in his feet again and started off down the hall, away from the library. He had some more thinking to do. 


	3. William's Decision Flashback

Chapter 3: William's Decision (Flashback)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or BtVS, but the plot was my original idea. Well, technically it was my mother's, but she sold me the rights to it.  
  
~.Marx.~  
  
A/N: I am not planning any romance of any sort, but you'll never guess what's coming next...I too have read too many romance plots with Draco/Hermione, so I won't put them together. I just think the only one who is able to match wits with Hermione besides Harry is Hermione, but seriously, would Draco give Harry the light of day?  
  
~~~~  
  
A cemetary was dark and uninviting, with gales of wind whishing through the almost browned leaves that clung steadily to trees which were on the last stages of growth. The ground was covered in brownish yellow grass as a warm wave of dying summer floated by. There in the cemetary stood a dark figure with a black robe covering him. He was tall, with glowing red eyes and malice being the only emotion present in them. The cemetary around him was quiet and empty, which was more than could be said about it. Next to him was a gravestone with a name on it...Tom Riddle...His father's name. Marvolo, his grandfather's name...He thought it would be the perfect place for an Initiation, thus they would all meet there. 'They' being the future Deatheaters and their elders. He would initiate them with the Dark Mark.  
  
Suddenly, Voldemort heard a faint 'popping' sound. His followers were beginning to arrive. A shadow fell over the moonlit gravestone before him and Voldemort recognized his faithful follower, Peter Pettigrew, or 'Wormtail' for short. The short, balding man was trembling from head to toe which was probably caused by his mission. "Wormtail, have you done as I have asked?" His hissing voice shook Wormtail up even more than he was in the first place, and he watched the little man nod.  
  
"Yes, master...I have..." It appeared that Voldemort had underestimated Wormtail's loyalty to him. He had betrayed his own friends in a heartbeat, but he wasn't sure if he trusted someone who would betray his only friends to have power over them. Wormtail wasn't a loyal man at any angle. He wouldn't trust the disgusting betrayer to keep that loyalty long enough should his followers be caught. But Wormtail had done his duty, which granted him immunity from his wrath.  
  
He only had to destroy the rest of the fighting wizards against him and he would have free reign over the wizarding world and the muggle world. There came more 'popping' sounds then, and Voldemort turned his attention to them. Robed Deatheaters came forward with their offspring, who were robed as well and well ready for their inauguration ceremony. The Deatheaters formed a broken circle facing Voldemort, and each of the clan came up and kissed the hem of his robes. After they finished, they went back to their previous positions. Voldemort then began to speak.  
  
"My Deatheaters, you come bearing your children so that they too may become my followers, to rid the world of mudbloods and the wizards who love them. You have come forth bearing arms against those who are less powerful than we many, and now it is time yet again to initiate those who oppose the weak ways of the wizarding world. Together, we shall dominate and destroy those who do not deserve to be called wizards. Now is the time for revenge.  
  
"Lucius, bring forth your son; we shall begin initiating the Deatheaters now." William Malfoy walked forwards in a black robe with a hood. His lazy saunter to his stride revealed black military style boots as he passed dozens of followers of the Dark Lord Voldemort. When he reached the wizard who was determined to right the world of off it's 'muggleness,' he simply stood there, not even daring to breathe should he gasp from what he was about to do instead. As if cued, Voldemort raised his wand. "Now kneel before me to receive the Dark Mark, young William, and fulfill your destiny, which is to serve me." William made no move to do as told, and several Deatheaters began to shift where they stood. William removed his hood, revealing his short and silvery blond hair that had been sleeked back to bring out the accent in his facial features. His eyes were reflecting disobedience and his dangerously independent stare, his jawbone was slender and trim, and his lips were full and quirked in such a way that it was very obvious that he was disgusted of the presence of the alleged invincible Dark Lord. "I said, 'Kneel before me to receive the Dark Mark.'" William stood taller and brought his hands to gather in front of him, looking at Voldemort and staring smugly at him. A word slipped snidely out of the young blond's mouth that made every Deatheater gasp.  
  
"No." he said, emphasizing his word and voice clearly. His voice was smooth, serious, and slightly amused at the same time, and he couldn't deny himself a smug smirk as Voldemort gripped his wand in rage. William had done his homework, which was something he never thought he would do in the first place. Everything he had done had been flawless and planned to this moment. He knew his father's work long before he realized what it was all about. He loved chaos, personally, but he wanted to plan it and follow through with it. He didn't need someone to tell him what to do and how to do it. Destruction was his desire, but he wanted full credit, which was not in the plan if Voldemort got his way. He would be a robed wizard under the stereotype that Voldemort had ordered them to do everything on his accord, even random chaos would give Voldemort credit, but William hadn't wanted to work through anyone. And to add to that, he had always been into torture, which was something he loved to do on his off time, and he was sure that Voldemort would force him to halt his practices. He had a fetish for railroad spikes, which was odd enough as it stood.  
  
"No? You dare refuse to become my follower? Lucius, you have betrayed me by bringing this rebellious boy before me. I am insulted." William didn't budge, and Lucius stormed up to him, wand raised and poised to attack. Wiliam ducked a muttered curse and grabbed his father's stiff arm, pulling it down with such a force that it dragged Lucius's entire body down as well; William thrusted his knee upwards and hit the older wizard's face at full force with the one knee movement. He had been raised with the knowledge that magic was used more than actual physical movements, and he knew the only physically fit wizards were the Quidditch players, and there were none here. Generally, all Deatheaters were horrible hand-to-hand combat fighters.  
  
Lucius fell to the ground after the single blow and William stood tall against Voldemort once again. "I'm through with your ideas and your bloody gang." William then spat on the hem of Voldemort's cloak, making everyone gasp again. "You're nothing but a bloody poof." And with that, he heard someone mutter a curse, and dodged a bright light. He managed to maneuver his way out of the broken circle, and knew that next time they may not be as reckless; he ducked another curse and ran on. When he heard footsteps following him he picked up his pace and leapt behind a large tombstone; he cleared his mind and concentrated on another place--anywhere but here. Within secondss he smiled and was gone with a 'pop' just as the tombstone, which had been his cover, was blasted apart by attacking Deatheaters. He was never seen again, but no one figured out that he was the original 'Boy Who Lived.' Should anyone try to locate him, he would disappear to his next target. He didn't want to be found for obvious reasons.  
  
William found himself standing in a tot's bedroom. He saw the plain blue walls with Quidditch wallhangings and walked over to a large bed near the window. In the center of it was a small boy with blonde hair huddled up to a stuffed dragon toy. The Norwegian Ridgeback was Draco's favorite dragon, and he was only four years old. William merely looked down at the boy and waited for the cue to leave, which was the absence of sorrow towards his sibling. It had taken a lot to turn down the Dark Mark in the presence of all Deatheaters, but he didn't want what would be coming to him should he had taken the opportunity. William reasoned that he would check up on his brother at almost every chance, and maybe they would take the time to converse once or twice until it was his turn to choose.  
  
Draco was sleeping pretty soundly, which was unlike the boy he knew during the day hours. He was a little monster sometimes, and William had easily formed a bond with the little bugger. Hell, he thought. It was hard enough to pry him from your leg when you left for Hogwarts at Spring Holiday. It didn't matter because he was now graduated from Hogwarts and he needed to leave before Lucius got home. "Got to be leavin', kiddo." And then Draco woke up, fully alert at the sound of his kiddish name.  
  
"Spike!" William caught the four-year-old boy as he launched himself at his older brother. The name, 'Spike' had arisen because of the discovery of about twelve railroad spikes hidden in William's bureau. Draco had begun using the word 'spike' and eventually it became his nickname. William smiled and hugged his brother.  
  
"Hey, Draco." William sat Draco down and took a seat next to him. "I woke you up. Sorry, Kiddo."  
  
"What are you doing up so late?"  
  
"Had to take care of something. I've got to head off very soon, though." The look from Draco's eyes changed from happiness to confusion, and William knew where this was going to end up.  
  
"Where are you going?" William knew he had to choose his words just right otherwise another incident would take place like the one at the end of Spring Holiday.  
  
"I don't know. Somewhere far away probably." William mentally kicked himself at his poor performance for his brother  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because dad's not too happy with me right now. I'm betting that he'll be home soon and I don't want him to find me."  
  
"Well, can I go?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Why not?" William didn't have time to answer four-hundred questions in a row; he had to get going.  
  
"It's not safe. Listen, I know you don't understand right now but you will one day, and you'll probably hate me. It's something I have to do. Stick around here and behave. I promise I'll send an owl, but it'll have to be a secret. It'll be just between you and me, so put on your grumpy face," He watched as all emotion left his brother's face as he was taught, and William sighed inwardly of relief. "Just like that. And don't tell anyone what we talked about, okay?" Draco's eyes began to redden and his bottom lip began quivering. William bit the inside of his lip and scolded himself for what he said. "Draco, you have to do this for me. I've got to go..." When he stood up to apparate out of the mansion, he felt Draco cling suddenly to his leg. "Draco--"  
  
"Don't leave me!" William sighed of frustration and tried to think of a way to pry his brother off his leg this time. It had taken him a good half hour to get free during Spring Break when he went to a party. William relaxed to give his brother the false sense of security and after a moment he found that Draco was not going to take this lightly.  
  
"Draco, let me go."  
  
"I won't!"  
  
"Draco, I don't want to leave but--"  
  
"Then don't!"  
  
"If I don't then dad's gonna kill me."  
  
"Why!"  
  
"Because I didn't want to work for his bloody boss. I don't want to leave and I certainly don't want to leave you here but I have to get out of here before dad gets back with mum. I will be around, but not for awhile. Now let me go unless you want us both to be spliced." William heard Draco sniff heavily and felt his little brother release him. He helped Draco up and sat him down on his bed, tucking him in and taking a seat. "Thank you, kiddo." William reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass ball that had a gold ring around it; he handed it to Draco. "This is a rememberall. I have another one for me, but this is yours. I promise I won't forget about you if you don't forget about me. I will be around, though. If not now then later. I'll talk to you then, kiddo." William stood up and stepped back a few steps. Then, in a blink, he was gone. Draco looked at the glass ball and tears fell down his face.  
  
~~~~  
  
A/N: Well, another chapter done and I'm almost done with the next one (I was debating whether or not I should put that one first, but I'm sure this'll do). 


	4. Whisperings and Sneakers

Whisperings and Sneakers (REVISED for 9-5-04)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or BtVS, but the plot was my original idea. Well, technically it was my mother's, but she sold me the rights to it.

.Marx.

A/N: I am not planning any romance of any sort, Dark Angel, but you'll never guess what's coming next...I too have read too many romance plots with Draco/Hermione, so I won't put them together. I just think the only one who is able to match wits with Hermione besides Harry is Hermione, but seriously, would Draco give Harry the light of day?

"So Malfoy spoke to you? What did he say?" said Ron, who took a large bite out of a mince pie his mother sent to him. They were sitting in the empty Gryffindor Common Room after dinner was over. He really did have a bottomless pit for a stomach. They had left early to work on homework and Hermione blurted out the news after Ron and Harry had heard about her confrontation to Draco Malfoy.

"He didn't tell me anything. At first it was like he was challenging me to come up with a very good reason to get his attention, but when I thought I did he didn't buy it. Maybe it was how I worded it?"

"What did you ask him?"

"At first I asked him what was wrong with him..." Harry snorted as if he thought of a good answer to that, but then turned his attention back to her. "Then I asked what brought this whole ordeal on. I was sure that was the correct choice after I thought about it. He wouldn't answer me, and then I told him I would begin making assumptions if he didn't say something, and he let me. So I asked him if he was turning over a new leaf and backed up my conclusion with premises and he laughed in my face, well, not really laughed, but closer to a snide remark. Something is seriously wrong with him."

Harry looked thoughtfully at Hermione, but then he was confused slightly. "Why would you care if something is wrong with Malfoy?" Hermione looked at Harry in the same manner as she did Draco when she went to ask him what was going on.

"He's acting weird and I think if he ignores you, Harry, then there's reason to worry. Even you have to admit that. He wouldn't talk to me without a good opening statement, which brings me to believe that he's beginning to see muggle-born witches and wizards in the same category as a pure-blood. He was giving me the same chance as someone else of 'higher standard' as some would put it, and this led me to believe that since he was researching muggles that he would give me some time of the day, in which he did--"

"You're really getting into this whole Malfoy mystery, aren't you, Hermione?" said Ron, who had stuffed his mouth with another bite of mince pie. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were actually being nice to him and liking it!" Hermione stared at Ron as he spoke with his mouth full of food, but passed it off as something she thought he would never grow out of. He was a decent guy and all, but seriously, sometimes he was still the same Gryffindor who couldn't control his temper in front of anyone who irked him--Draco Malfoy being at the top of that list.

"It's making everyone nervous, Ron. A quiet, subdued Draco Malfoy cannot be a good thing on any level. If I can get him to talk to me on a decent level at all I would be able to figure out what is bothering him, and maybe get him back to normal, if that's what you want." Harry nodded slightly, not really agreeing or disagreeing. Ron didn't seem to take to her plan as well, though. He didn't like the thought of being nice to a Malfoy on any level. He just sat there with one of his cheeks stuffed with pie and his eyes wide as if he discovered that his friend had gone insane. He quickly chewed his food and swallowed it, ready with a speech that could last a while.

"Are you insane? Malfoy's miserable! I've never been so happy!" Apparently not so much of a long speech awaited them. Ron seemed to take all of his energy in expressing many emotions all in the two sentences he blurted out. Harry looked at Ron as Hermione had looked at him earlier. He was beginning to grasp the concept Hermione was offering, and was starting to wonder how--if possible--she could help Draco Malfoy.

"You may be happy with the overnight change Malfoy has gone through, but it isn't as simple as liking it and accepting it." said Harry, who had taken to the thought of a subdued Malfoy with a look of confusion and slight shock on his face. "I agree that there is something wrong with him. If it's nothing, then it might as well be treated as such. Right now he's not talking to anyone, but Hermione was the only Hogwart's student able to communicate with him in three days. If she can get anything out of him, then maybe we can put this whole thing to rest. I'm getting tired of hearing about it."

"I think he should stay like this. It would show him what it feels like to be the center of all rumors." Ron said nastily.

"Like it or not, Ron, I don't think you'd like Draco Malfoy being nice. I don't think it would be very healthy for anyone whose father was a Deatheater." Harry watched as Ron got really quiet, as if he were comprehending finally what his colleagues were discussing. It seemed to soak in a bit more as the three contemplated what Lucius Malfoy would do to his only son if he were to find out he was rebelling against the traditional ways of his family.

"When you say it that way, Harry, it suddenly doesn't sound so good. I don't know what the Malfoy family is like, but I'm sure it isn't healthy to do anything wrong. I don't think you should help him, though. He's just figuring out now that everyone is pretty much equal? I think he needs to be told that what he was doing was wrong. But I don't want to be responsible for Lucius killing him just because we knew first. I don't want that problem. Might as well help him while he can still be helped, Hermione." Harry looked over to Hermione, who seemed bewildered about something. Ron saw this as well and they looked to her for an explanation. "What's bothering you now?" His question was rewarded with a glare. Hermione didn't seem to comprehend something at first, but then after a moment, she seemed to come to her wits about it.

"Who could have that much influence on Malfoy?" Harry hesitated as did Ron. It shocked them, actually. Hermione really did think of everything. No one knew how to start the discussion, if there even was one to start off with. Ron was the first to speak up.

"What if it was Lucius?"

"Doubtful." said Harry. "Voldemort comes first for him. I would assume that Lucius knows nothing about it."

"Who else has that kind of influential power?" Hermione stopped to think about it. "What about Narcissa? Mother's are very influential to what everyone does."

"She's got to be a Deatheater, too. Why else would Lucius marry? She's in league with Lucius. She's got to be. I bet they agree on all kinds of evil things." said Ron.

"If they agree, she couldn't be on the suspect list, Hermione. There's just too little to go on when we know what kind of wizards they are." Hermione stopped to think a bit harder of Harry's words. "Malfoy doesn't have a lot of influence when it comes to friends. Even I would be more influential than Crabbe or Goyle."

"Hey, that's right!" said Ron, enthused. "Harry, I'm so proud of you for turning Malfoy into a wimp!" Harry chuckled and pictured him talking to Draco Malfoy as a best friend and getting him to change his mind about muggle-born witches and wizards. Ron suddenly got a visual of Harry being friends with Malfoy, and grimaced. "Ech. I suddenly don't think that anymore..." Ron's face continued to be contorted and Hermione continued.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get down to the bottom of it."

"Do you have a plan to help him?"

"At this point, it all depends on him, don't you think?"

A/N: Okay, that was the revised version. I finished the revised version awhile ago, but now I've got some more ideas flowing easier these days. It'll be up soon. I'm trying for a few days, but it could be a little longer, you know how it can be.


	5. Choices

Choices

By Daniele Marx

A/N: Waited a LONG TIME for this one. . . I apologize and hope you'll accept this chapter as atonement.

This story, so everyone knows, occurred in place of fifth year because I lost all hope for him to reconcile after I read that tragedy, which explains why I've not updated it with much success. Oh, and William is Draco's brother and not a wimp in this story.

What chapter am I on?

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Draco was flinging clothing all over the floor of his section of the dorm, and even took over Crabbe and Goyle's side as well. His search to find the blasted thing that was making so much racket. It was a siren sound, almost like the sonorous charm, but it was hidden somewhere in the trunk under his bed. Unfortunately he'd put a charm on the trunk at the beginning of the year so it was practically bottomless. Perfect for losing something, though. He didn't even know he lost something let alone remember what it was. Which of his things, which devices, let out a shrill sound when misplaced?

None. That was the problem.

That blasted thing was making too much noise, it was going to draw too much attention. He didn't know Rememberalls made noise at all. Longbottom's never went off like this, just puffed stupid smoke. Stupid, stupid ball.

His search had driven two of his roommates out of the dorm, two of which were a little more than nervous because of his antics the past few weeks. Crabbe and Goyle were hanging around him less, and his defenses were down because he'd been spending so much time in the library. It was unbecoming of Lucius Malfoy's son to be spending time in the library, unless he was studying dark spells of some sort. His brother would've told him to stop being so obviously disturbed and to just do what he wanted.

It wasn't that easy because of his father and mother. William was his brother, the black sheep--why should he listen to the disgrace of the line? Why did William Malfoy, the elder sibling, have to come back to change his mind? Why was it so easy to change? He was a Malfoy, damn it all! This wasn't what he was supposed to do!

The screech got louder and he reached down for a shirt to reveal a glowing red ball. A rememberall? Impossible. They didn't make noises, just glowed. Why would his rememberall be going off? Since when did he have one? So many questions went through his head that he couldn't think straight. Raising his wand to the object, he tried to shatter it with a simple hex.

It was adamant about staying together. Damn. Draco followed through with a pitch and it connected with the wall. The squealing ended abruptly. Obviously Neville's ball had somehow gotten into his things, even though it made no sense. He wasn't sure what he wanted. That was his problem. He thirsted for the life William had given him; it was a sick and twisted life but he still wanted it. Was it because he couldn't have it even if he desired it? And no one had a clue about his brother--he hardly remembered his sibling.

No one could know. Not even his parents were allowed to know about the visit. Surely his father would try to pry the information he wasn't allowed to give, and Voldemort came first right now. Usually Lucius supported one person, himself, but when a bigger fish came along he was drawn to the power.

Draco snorted at the image of his father bowing down before someone. Disgusting now that he thought about it, and William was beginning to make sense. He tried to clear his mind to focus on whatever he was forgetting. Homework, spells, friends, You-Know-Who, nothing was ringing a bell. If it hadn't been for his brother he'd be able to sleep at night and hate Potter freely instead of talking to his mudblood friends. He had to spill to Granger of all people, a mudblood! Draco wasn't happy at all with this notion, and he slammed his trunk shut on his fingers.

"Bollocks," he cried. His hand flexing to dim the pain, Draco walked to his bed and grabbed his wand. He never left his sleeping area without it these days, what with the Dark Lord risen and what have you. His father was going to take him to become a Deatheater as soon as the first break came along--Hogsmeade where he'd disappear for a while before being disapparated to the graveyard.

The Rememberall buzzed to life as though it had just woken up from a sleep. Draco jumped and dove for the object. How dare it interrupt his thoughts.

William. Draco still sneered a bit from the things Lucius had ground into his head. Unfortunately family influence had a large impact on his life. William told him to see him before the Hogsmeade trip--through the floo network. He'd talk to him through the fire in the dormitory after hours the night after next according to the owl he'd received the morning of. Granger had seen his face when his eyes skimmed the second paper he hadn't allowed his friends to glance upon. That was beginning to draw suspicion by the galleons. William didn't want to draw attention to his presence despite the fact that he didn't exist technically.

Draco envied him for running, which was something he'd never been proud of in the past. The Rememberall flashed in his hand, which he didn't notice at first. Envy for hiding from their father and having a free life. . . He took a minute to reminisce about this idea, freedom from family. Don't get him wrong, he loved his mother and father, but they were loyal supporters at this point, scared of disobeying the Dark Lord. He wasn't afraid of the notion of running, was he? Nobody talked about William. Would it be the same in this case? Or would his family suffer for the treachery?

William ran, RAN and no one followed him.

The Remberall, it was silent. He rolled it in his hands and clutched it close to his heart, something he'd spent so much time denying. Why did it take so long to recall? Was he that much of a pawn that he couldn't see the truth. Always following someone else to give his life meaning, trying to justify his actions as someone else's ideas. Why _not_ be his own wizard at this point? Slytherins were not allowed to show traits outside of his house. Devious and a Slytherin? That wasn't wholly uncommon. Technically he wasn't changing his house rules, but this was above house rules. This was outside of the bubble charm.

Draco put the warm orb down and reached for his night cloak, the crushed velvet material soft against his fingertips as he believed it to be his last night as an innocent bystander with no responsibilities. He needed to branch off and be a man about this. As soon as he went this route he couldn't turn back.

He had to prepare for a meeting.

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_Much later, in the Slytherin Common Room. . .  
_

He was stoking the fire and walking back to his pile of homework. One foot of parchment--Professor Snape always cut his assignments short after the students left. He was, after all, the most favored among the greasy-haired teachers. Being cool about his reasons to stay up after hours was his specialty, so perhaps he was meant to be this way in the beginning. It was too easy to deceive his colleagues, but he was sure there had to be smarter wizards out there who weren't part of the Ministry.

A few minutes and several glares later, Draco was alone in the Common Room with only a crackling fire to comfort him. He had some tricks still up his sleeve despite being a total shut in and disgrace to the Malfoy name. With his stomach in knots, he was easily startled when he was sure voices were calling to him. It was early even for him and he'd look dreadful in the morning, but he walked to the fire where he'd heard the noise. It was obviously the message he'd been waiting for, and waited for his brother to speak.

"Draco," it whispered again. William's face appeared in the fire and Draco acknowledged him. The embers from the fire landed on his hand which he shooed away with little fear of being burned. There were more important things.

"William. What's so urgent you kept me up this long?" William smirked.

"You little brat, you can't stay out of trouble. Word is you've been acting strange lately and turning heads. Make your mind up soon or people will start to make assumptions of what you're doing."

"Too late for that. I'm not torn up about it."

"You'd better be otherwise you'll have to deal with Lucius. He didn't find my change humorous at any rate. Searched for years for me, at mother's pleading. Don't be an idiot about the initiation. Drawbacks to being yourself is a high cost. You willing to make the sacrifice?" Draco thought about his envy, how he wanted freedom more than anything. A spike of fear went through him and he was set off of his envy. He wanted it but suddenly didn't want to be free if it meant leaving everything he knew.

William noted this. "He's only powerful if you turn to him for strength. But if you're not in charge of what you want and like it that way, fine by me. Do the pleasure of kissing his robes before the scarred kid destroys him. I know a losing battle when I see one."

"What do you mean? I don't see Potter winning."

"There are factors to take into consideration," Draco waited for him to continue. William wasn't happy having to spell it out for him. It was something he had to do with the slayer several times. "like the prophecy. Have you heard it?"

"No."

"Did you ever wonder why Voldemort--" Draco winced but William continued, "went after the Potter kid in the first place? And why he won't stop until he's destroyed the boy?" Draco drew a blank. He hadn't thought about it, to tell the truth. "He's afraid of what Potter can do. He's important and he has the power to destroy the bloody poof. The kid's got heavy rocks." The younger Malfoy didn't want to think about Potter's _rocks_ by any means. How unsettling he might actually blow pieces just thinking about something so grotesque.

"That's why Voldemort is after the kid, because he might succeed where others have failed."

"He isn't that smart, Potter, you give him too much credit. He's an idiot who got lucky." William's smirk returned then. He chuckled and Draco looked around the empty Common Room to check if anybody had come in or heard the noise. Nobody had come down, but he wasn't elated from the idea he could get caught.

"Quiet, fool."

"Potter was tagged early in life by the poof, marked as an equal. I think it's time you fessed up to the reality of it all. If He was really interested in making a child's life nonexistent, he could've chosen a closer subject. Even at the peak of power he couldn't fight off Potter's protection. I think it's high time you owned up to the idea that perhaps being a Deatheater isn't the best career choice with all the commotion going on. Later, kiddo. Think about what I said and when you're ready to venture out, send an owl. We'll meet then."

Then he was gone. Just like that. He wasn't aware of his lack of breathing until now, the way his brain gave in to the pressure. He'd hated Potter since before he'd even met the kid, and now he was starting to think it wasn't that bad of an idea to let the Gryffindor take care of his problem for him. Did he want to go through the life of a Deatheater or did he want what he was sure he wouldn't get?

He scowled. All differences aside, one thing remained despite the fact that he was considering either direction.

A Malfoy always got what he wanted.


End file.
